


The Terms of the Wager

by nightfalltwen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Halloween, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post - Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 15:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2587271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightfalltwen/pseuds/nightfalltwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theodore Nott has a fortnight to bed Tracey Davis or forfeit on an ill-advised wager.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Terms of the Wager

**Title:** The Terms of the Wager  
**Author:** nightfalltwen  
**Prompt #** H38  
**Pairing(s)/Character(s):** Theodore/Tracey (mentions of Astoria/Blaise and Draco/Pansy)  
**Rating:** NC17  
**Summary:** Theodore Nott has a fortnight to bed Tracey Davis or forfeit on an ill-advised wager.  
**Word Count:** 6650  
**Warnings/Content:** None  
**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction set in the Harry Potter universe – all recognisable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work. Please observe your local laws with regards to the age-limit and content of this work.  
**Author's notes:** Written for the 2014 Samhain_Smut fest on livejournal. Big thank yous to my beta, S who keeps pointing out that I often spell it Nocturne Alley instead of Knockturn Alley (I blame the LJ RPG, really). Also big thank yous to the mods who allowed me extra time when things got hectic. Happy Halloween everyone!

* * *

_October 31st - Day Fourteen_

Kissing Tracey without removing her mask took a bit of maneuvering, small feathers tickling his cheeks as her head tilted to the side. His fingers buried themselves in her hair, despite the elaborate twists and curls that she had managed to create. Theodore wanted to tug each and every pin out, drop it to the floor and let his fingertips rake through the waves, but he managed to keep himself in check. There was a scraping sound as her fingernails bumped against the door behind her, searching out the doorknob.

Theodore reached behind her and closed his fingers around her wrist, bringing her arm back up to drape over his shoulders. It wouldn't do to disappear now.

They had to be seen.

"Bite my lip," Tracey mumbled against his mouth. Her hands moved up into his hair and made very short work of the styling he'd done to fashion twists that were reminiscent of horns.

As instructed, Theodore caught the soft flesh of her lower lip between his teeth and gave a tiny tug. His fingers slid down over the bodice of her gown to her hip, pulling her closer. Yards of fabric separated them, but it felt like air. Heated air. Air that was on fire. Theodore stifled a groan, not wanting to appear more eager than the kiss, but it was difficult.

"Oh my god, you two. Find a room," said a sharp, nasally voice from the end of the hall.

Theodore dragged his mouth from Tracey's, only letting go of her lip at the very last moment and closed his eyes for a breath before glancing sidelong in the direction of the voice. Astoria Greengrass-Zabini stood, arms crossed over her breasts, scowling at the pair of them. Theodore felt Tracey's head turn toward Astoria and used the opportunity to lean down and press his mouth against the soft slope of her neck. He felt her fingers curl against his scalp, nails scraping against the skin.

It was either a warning or an encouragement, he wasn't quite sure.

"Are you offering yours?" Tracey asked, her voice low and almost thick, but the smile in her tone was audible.

He felt the leg closest to Astoria start to rise up, sliding along the outside of his own leg, her heel hooking at the back of his knee. There was a harrumph from the newest "Mrs Zabini", a swish of a gown and the receding sound of sharp heels clicking against the tile floor as she flounced off. A throaty chuckle bubbled up from somewhere inside Tracey and she dropped her leg, reaching behind herself once again to grasp the doorknob to the study. It wasn't exactly perfect, but it would do. She thrust the door open and stepped backwards into the room, her hand grasping the front of Theodore's costume. Tugging him in with her, she smiled and removed the mask as he kicked the door shut behind them.

"I imagine she'll go straight to Blaise," he said, straightening the deep red shirt he wore. He looked toward the window, lightly combing his fingers through his rumpled hair. "Who will, in turn, tell Draco."

"Definitely. Astoria can't keep her mouth shut to save her life and this is one bit of intrigue she won't ignore. I think we'll have about ten minutes before they come looking for us."

Tracey began hiking gauzy, white skirt up a little and reaching under the fabric. The lace tops of her stockings peeked out as she shimmied around, undoing and redoing straps and ribbons. It wasn't long before she was tugging down a pair of sheer knickers, stepping out of her heels as she took them off. Theodore raised his eyebrows.

"Well if you're going to win this bet, they're going to want proof that something happened in here," she said, dangling the bit of fabric from her fingertips and looking around before she settled on hanging them delicately from the arm of the second wingback in the study. She walked back over to where he stood, reaching back and plucking a few white feathers from the wings that were attached to her to the back of her gown.

She was the angel to his devil. It played up on the fact that he was meant to seduce her by the end of the night.

He wondered if anyone really realised that Tracey Davis was far from the angel she had been playing for the last fortnight. He suspected that they might know. Perhaps.

Tracey dropped the feathers on the desk and then strode over to him, reaching up to undo the scarlet tie that was knotted about his neck. She tugged it off and dropped it on the floor before reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket where he kept his wand. Theodore didn't stop her. Instead he let her take it out and then a moment later they were standing in the middle of her sitting room.

Theodore let out a breath and held out his hand for the wand, which she relinquished.

"Drink?" she asked, tugging pins from her hair. The soft blonde curls fell down around her shoulders. "Modest living space aside, I do splurge on expensive scotch when the mood calls for it."

"It's probably best that I take my leave," he said after a moment, turning the wand over in his hand. If he stayed longer, he'd be pushing into territory that he thought they'd agreed was off the table. At least he'd thought it was off the table until she spoke.

"Or you could stay and we could shag anyway."

* * *

_October 18th - Day One_

What woke Theodore was not the splitting headache or the kink in his neck. Instead it was the shatter of glass as the brandy snifter he'd been holding, slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor. There was an instant pop of a house elf. Snuffy or Sniffly or something along those terms, one of Blaise's many elves, appeared in a fluster of woe and alas at the mess. Theodore ignored the moaning and sat up on the sofa.

He felt decidedly out of sorts and entirely too hung over.

"Sir," the elf squeaked, the noise causing a spot below Theodore's eyebrow to twinge uncomfortably. "Master Blaise and Mister Malfoy are in the dining room."

Theodore frowned. The last time he'd spent the night drinking and smoking with Draco and Blaise, it had been at Nott Estate and at least _he'd_ had the good sense to shuffle his inebriated friends off to bed instead of leaving them on the sofa. Apparently his friends had lost all sense of friendship with the acquiring of significant others into their lives. It was a shame. These nights were happening less and less as it was. He didn't expect that they would continue for much longer. They especially wouldn't if Astoria got even more vocal about the need to put forth a proper society face as she had been doing of late.

At least Pansy was still amenable to Draco spending time elsewhere.

Stumbling from the drawing room to the dining room, Theodore shot a dark look to both Draco and Blaise who were calmly, and apparently soberly, eating eggs. He made his way over to the sideboard and found the small bottle of potion that had been put out for him. Normally this sort of thing would be on a bedside table somewhere and not at the breakfast table. Popping the cork, Theodore tilted back the glass and drank down the concoction.

He placed a few slices of toast onto a plate and brought it over to the table.

"You look terrible," Blaise said, turning the page of the prophet before raising his eyebrows at Draco. "I told you he wouldn't be pleased that we'd left him."

Draco took a sip of his tea and shrugged. "He was already asleep and you know how I manage levitation spells after as much brandy as we drank. It was better to leave him until the morning. In any case, he'll be even less pleased when he remembers what he agreed to."

Theodore had been ignoring them for the most part. It was par for the course. Whoever was the last to rise was always spoken about in chiding tones and as if said person wasn't even present. The potion hadn't quite finished removing the headache, but it cleared enough for him to catch the last few words that Draco spoke. He dropped his toast to the plate and reached for a napkin, wiping the crumbs from his mouth.

"Agreed to what?"

"The wager," said Blaise with a chuckle. "Though I'll admit that we were a bit over indulgent last night and perhaps the terms weren't all that fair.

"No, no," Draco said, setting down his fork. "We agreed months ago that changing the terms of a wager was the very definition of going soft. I didn't get any special consideration last time."

Theodore could feel the spot between his brows knitting. "What were my terms?"

A wide, slanted grin spread across Draco's face and he reached for a folded piece of paper sitting between the salt and pepper shakers. The edges of the paper glowed with a purple light. Of course. A binding spell for the wager. He would have expected nothing less from Blaise and Draco. They'd done similarly to the last bet, which had involved Draco wearing Cannons orange for a month and attending all league games or risking publically funding the team throughout the season. Hazy memories of the previous night tugged at the back of Theodore's mind. He remembered signing the page. He remembered the deed to the Nott landholdings in France being involved.

"I, Theodore Nott," Draco said, clearing his throat and lowering his voice as he read from the paper, "do hereby wager that I have the ability to bed any woman with little effort and will manage to do the same to one, Tracey Davis. By All Hallows Eve. If I do not succeed, lands in Marseilles will transfer to Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy equally. If I do, a sum of five thousand galleons will be paid to the Nott vault."

Theodore rubbed the spot on his forehead that was throbbing with a pinpoint headache. "I didn't."

"You did," Blaise said with a smile, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. "The house _and_ the lands. What would your father think? You've only had ownership of the holiday property for a few weeks."

He shot his friend a look and rose from the chair. "I highly doubt this was entirely my idea. You always were the best at convincing arguments, Draco. I imagine that's the only reason they allow you to stay on at the Wizengamot."

Draco laughed. "There may have been a few suggestions here or there. But you were the one bragging about the notches in your bedpost and how, I believe the word was, 'whipped' Blaise and I were now that he's married and I'm engaged."

Theodore rolled his eyes and snatched up the piece of toast that had fallen to his plate. "I'll have it done before the week is out," he said, raising his chin and leaving Draco and Blaise to their breakfast.

* * *

_October 21st - Day Four_

"Here. Take it. It's paid for. You don't have to hang around anymore."

Theodore startled and tried to move his newspaper before the enormous garment bag was draped across his arms. He failed and the story about the new Gringotts regulations was crumpled in his hands. Looking up from his seat, he tilted his head. Tracey Davis looked down at him, blonde hair twisted up into a knot and held in place by a few quills and a biro. Her mouth was twisted into a scowl as another crowd of girls poured into the shop.

Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions had been designing costumes for the various Hallowe'en masques held around the city for a couple of years. Theodore had never gone in on it, preferring a simple black suit and matching domino mask to anything elaborate. But a personal owl on Saturday afternoon to the old battle-axe herself and a generous bonus on top of the quoted price had him bumped to the top of the list. The promise had been that it would be completed no later than the middle of the week.

"Hold up," he said as she turned to attend to the new customers. "Is it not customary to do a fitting?"

She turned so abruptly that one of the quills fell out of her hair and fluttered to the floor. "You can't be serious." She gestured to the busy shop. "Do I really look like I have the time for that?"

Tracey Davis was an intriguing character to say the least. Theodore hadn't ever really paid much attention to her in school, barely speaking with her at length on any topic. She was Pansy's friend, but an outsider to the pureblood Slytherin world. Half-bloods tended to stay in their own little circle of friends, but Tracey had been the only halfblood sorted into Slytherin. And although she had found herself in Pansy Parkinson's circle and favour, Theodore had never really spent much time in her company.

"I can wait," said Theodore, his mouth tugging into a half smile. He gestured politely to the gaggle of girls and tugged the newspaper out from under the garment bag.

Tracey huffed in frustration and spun on her heel, going back to helping the other customers.

It wasn't until the last customer left and that the sign was flipped around to close the shop was she able to get back to him. He'd had nothing else planned, so it was not a terrible inconvenience, but the fact that the shop had been so busy was surprising. He'd not thought Malkin's was as popular in the fashion world as it seemed to be. Theodore set his paper aside and got to his feet which caused Tracey to startle. She glared at him, pointing at the pedestal in the corner. Theodore nodded and carried the garment bag to a fitting room, changing into the suit.

When he stepped out, clad head to toe in dark red that bordered on carmine, Tracey burst out laughing.

"Why red?" she said, shaking her head and pointing to the pedestal. "Of all the colours to make a new suit, why on earth would you choose red?"

Theodore ignored her laughter and stepped onto the platform, looking down as she crouched with a measuring tape. "It's a costume for the masque that Blaise holds every year. I thought about doing something different this year."

She gave the cuffs of his trousers a tug and glanced toward the mirror. "There's nothing that needs adjusting." She looked up at him. "What is all this anyway?"

"I do believe this is a suit purchase and fitting," Theodore said, looking at his reflection first, surprisingly impressed with the cut of the suit and the way it fell against his body. He hadn't expected something of this quality to come out of Malkin's. They hadn't in the past.

"No," Tracey said, narrowing her eyes. "You don't buy suits from Malkin's. You, Theodore Nott, never have. And you went seven years barely saying more than three words to me during school. Why the sudden change? What are you up to?"

If he was going to be completely honest with himself, Theodore wasn't accustomed to interacting with women who were intelligent. That generally suited him just fine. He wasn't the settling down sort. It was why he tended to find comfort in the beds of Slytherins that had been two to three years below them in school. They were so much more easily manipulated with the promise of being 'the one' to change him and become the next heiress to the Nott family.

So immediately being questioned on his motives threw him off.

"I thought perhaps we might get to know each other better. As you said, we weren't the sort to interact during school and I had the idea that I could change that. A drink perhaps?"

"How about no," she said and got to her feet. Walking over to the door, Tracey pulled it open and held it for him. "Your suit fits perfectly. It was meant to. I have to close up properly, Nott. I'd appreciate it if you took your leave."

Theodore stood there for a moment, unsure what to say before finally nodding in agreement and stepping down off the platform. He gathered his things, his regular clothes and the garment bag. A sinking feeling tugged at the bottom of his stomach. This was going to be harder than he imagined. With a polite little bow, he stepped past her and out onto the streets before disapparating.

* * *

_October 23rd - Day six_

"Theodore Nott, you are a right proper shit," Tracey snarled, trying to tug her wrist free from his grasp, coming across more like an angry cat than anything else. "You god damn son of a _bitch_!"

She'd appeared at his desk at Gringotts only moments before, the fury coming off her in waves. But before he could say anything to calm her down, she'd lashed out and slapped him. He'd not managed to dodge the first blow and his cheek stung where her palm had struck. At the second attempt, he'd caught her wrist and was holding it above her head as she let out a string of foul insults that would have made any of the patrons of Knockturn Alley blush.

"Let me go," she growled, attempting to kick at him.

"I'll do nothing of the sort until I know that you're not going to attack me again."

"You deserve it! And worse. _Bed_ me? You and Blaise and Draco and your stupid, _ridiculous_ bets. Putting Draco in Cannons orange is one thing, but to bring me into it like I am some sort of cheap conquest?!"

Theodore opened his mouth to respond, but was left without anything to say. He slowly let go of her wrist and took a step back. "Pansy..."

"Yes, Pansy!" She snatched up a stack of files and flung them at him. "Did you think Draco wouldn't tell her? That she wouldn't tell me? She's my best friend, you idiot!"

As the paper fluttered to the floor, Theodore moved to sit down in his chair. He lightly rubbed his cheek, still smarting from the blow. He truly and honestly didn't know what to say or how to respond. She was right to be furious with him. The wager had started to feel like a bad idea the moment he'd set foot in Malkin's. It had started to feel even worse when he went out of his way to cross her path in and around the Alley.

"I couldn't figure it out at first. I knew something was up when you put in that order for that suit. Malkin's has never been your style, even with the new designs being done. I brought it up with Pansy and then she told me all about your little game with Blaise and Draco. To think! I _almost_ thought maybe..." she stopped herself and angrily reached out, grabbing one of his quills and snapping it in half. "I'm not a game piece for you three to toy with you know!"

Theodore reached out and picked up the glass quill holder in an effort to save the rest of his supplies. "You're right." He tucked the quills into one of his desk drawers. "It was a wager placed under the influence of far too much to drink. It wasn't fair to you and I don't normally sign off on seduction bets, but I suffered poor judgement that night."

She scowled at him. "If you knew how awful the wager was, why did you continue with it?"

"The terms were magically binding. And they were something I didn't feel I could go back on."

There was a knock at his office door. Tracey spun about with a heavy glass paperweight in her hand, holding it aloft. A paunchy Gringotts guard nudged open the door, hand on his wand. Before the man could ask if anything was wrong, Theodore cleared his throat and stood. Gringotts was a lot tighter on its security and its treatment of tempers or adverse behaviour since Potter and his crew had nearly destroyed the entire bank with a Dragon. He wasn't surprised at the quick response.

"It's fine," he said. "Everything is under control. Ms Davis is just... passionate about her accounts."

The guard snorted and muttered something about being just down the corridor before he closed the door again. Theodore's attention shifted back to the angry woman across from him. "I'm not in the habit of going back on wagers I've made in the past with Blaise and Draco," he said, tight lipped. "This will be the exception."

"What were your terms?" She asked, thumping the paperweight down onto the desk.

"Sorry?"

"What were the terms of the wager? I want to know how much my _companionship_ was worth," she said, dropping into a chair.

"Five thousand galleons if I succeeded," he answered strangely compelled to be honest with her. The straightforward conversation was unlike any he'd had with a woman before.

"And failure?"

He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "Lands in Marseilles. My father recently transferred ownership to our holdings in France to me."

"So money. And land. That's what I was worth." Tracey folded her arms over her chest, mouth twisted into a frown. She sat like that for a moment before getting to her feet and heading to the door.

This was a new feeling for him. He'd never really known the discomfort of having his actions thrown back at him in a way that showed just how superficial and selfish they really were. In the past, it hadn't mattered. Or maybe it had but he'd chosen not to think too hard or too heavily on it. Theodore had grown up in a world that catered to him. Not because he was a pureblood, but because he was wealthy and he was so used to not thinking about the ripple effect. But here it was in front of him. Rippling.

"I'm truly sorry, Tracey," he said, utterly genuine in his tone.

She paused briefly at his words, but didn't answer him as she slipped through the door and left the office.

* * *

_October 25th - Day eight_

Theodore ran the soft brush over Ulysses' flank, lightly patting the rump as he worked. The Nott family had a contingent of stable elves, but he always preferred brushing down the large bay gelding after a ride. It was a calming feeling, just spending time with the horses, riding and caring for them. He'd spent a lot of his time in the stables over the last couple of days. Mostly because he didn't want to discuss plans for the property in France with his father, knowing that it wasn't to be Nott family property for very much longer.

Ulysses gave a sudden snort and stepped to the side as the large door to the front of the stables slid open.

Looking over his shoulder, Theodore blinked in surprise and dropped the brush.

"I'm still not happy with you," Tracey said, the look on her face was hard to figure out.

Theodore brushed his hands off and reached up to curl his fingers around the bridle, leading Ulysses back into his stall. He grabbed the oats and shook some into the bucket attached to the wall before shutting the door behind him. He reached over the stall door and gave the horse's neck a stroke before turning his attention back to Tracey.

"Should I prepare myself for another altercation?" he asked warily.

"No. I'm still unhappy, but I've had some time to think." She looked around briefly as if trying to determine a good place to start and then returned her gaze to him. "Even for purebloods, five thousand galleons is a 'dent in the accounts' sum. Draco and Blaise deserve that dent. So I'm going to help you win."

Theodore shook his head. "You really don't have to do anything."

"I'm not helping you win to increase your coffers, Nott. If this works, you get to keep your family's home in France and you get to transfer every last cent of whatever they pay you... to me."

He stared at her, not quite understanding the change. So many questions vied to be the first to be asked. Why, after discovering what he had been up to, would she ever want to help? Why not let him suffer? What on earth was her plan? This was so much more than just acting amorous toward each other. Blaise and Draco would require some kind of proof, whether it was visual or a memory pulled and observed in a pensieve. His first reaction was to keep that little bit to himself, but Theodore felt that keeping things from her at this point would only anger her further.

"They'll want proof," he said, leaning against one of the support posts next to the Ulysses' stall.

"Oh I already thought of that," she replied, waving her hand. "Your silly red suit gave me an idea and I'm going to come to Zabini's party on your arm."

Before Theodore could protest that it wasn't all that silly and then insist that he was actually quite impressed with the suit that he'd bought at Malkin's, Tracey was already producing a large coil-bound notepad from the satchel that had been at her hip. She opened it and flipped through a bunch of pages before holding it out to him. On the page was a design sketch of a costume. Wings. Dress. Notes about stockings and a halo done with some kind of magic. Tracey stepped closer and turned the page back a few until he saw the design of his suit. The cuts and his measurements were in loopy handwriting at the bottom.

"You designed my suit?" he asked, ignoring the fact that there was a large arrow pointing to the head of the design form with notes about hair being made into horns.

"I design all the new clothing that Madam Malkin sells. I just don't have my name on the label yet. But that isn't the point, Nott," she said with a dismissive gesture before flipping the page back to the dress. "Angel. Devil. It works and you'll fit the part of grand seducer."

Theodore looked at the two designs, nodding at her plan. He thought the idea had merit. It would be difficult. Pansy knew that Tracey knew about the wager. If she said something to Draco, then it would all fall apart. 

"Both Blaise and Draco know my methods." He held the sketch book back to her. "I like your plan... but I doubt they'll be convinced."

She tucked the book into her satchel and pushed back her hair, tucking the long blonde strands behind her ears. A smirk appeared on her face. "I got through seven years of school convincing the entire lot of you that I belonged in your circle. And I do belong in your circle. But you never would have had me without the lengths I went to. So believe me when I say that I can convince any of you of anything."

"But the thing is," Theodore pushed himself away from the stall and walked past her. "I don't think you should have to convince them of anything. This wasn't your wager. It was mine and it was a poor decision. You don't need to try--"

"Oh just stop right there. I don't need you coming down with a disgusting case of Gryffindor Nobility, Theo," she said, shaking her head ruefully. "I'm not doing this for you. Of course you get to benefit from this because you don't lose that land or whatever in France, but when this works, I get the start-up funds for my own line in my own name. And that's what I want. _That_ is how you repay me."

Theodore stood there for a moment, not knowing what to say or how to respond. She was very certain of her goals and he had to appreciate her ambition. Brushing a hand against the thigh of his riding trousers, he held it out to her. She looked at his face and then down at his hand before looking at his face again. Then she slipped her hand into his, shaking it firmly.

"Then we have an arrangement," he said.

"I'll play my part. You play yours."

* * *

_October 31st - Day fourteen_

Theodore stared at Tracey, mouth open in surprise. Over the last six days she'd played her part so very well. To the point where he'd almost forgotten that they were actually playing parts and none of this was meant to be serious in the slightest. When they'd shown up at the party, however, he'd not been able to keep his eyes off her. He'd not even had to pretend to be interested. He let himself be captivated by how she looked and by the confidence she exuded. When they'd finally gone upstairs, their mouths meeting like that, he'd had the thought cross his mind that he could like this. He truly could get used to this. He could get used to her.

"I didn't quite catch that," Theodore said, finally finding his voice.

Tracey took a step towards him, each movement punctuating a word. "We. Could. Shag." She stopped in front of him and reached up to touch one of the buttons on the front of his shirt.

Covering her hand with his, he held it in place, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before back at her. "I think we're just caught up in the moment," he said finally.

"Or maybe I just realised that you're a fantastic kisser and I want to know what else you're fantastic at." She curled her fingers around the fabric of his shirt and tugged him forward, her lips curving into that smirk that he'd started to find truly endearing over these last few days. Her blue eyes met his. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for me."

Theodore found their faces very close, his nose brushing against hers. "Is everything you do just for you?"

"Absolutely everything," she answered, wrapping her arm around his neck and arching her entire body up toward him as she pressed her mouth against his.

This kiss was different. The one in the hallway had been planned. They'd discussed it at length before arriving at the party so there would be no surprises. The only improvisation had been the lip bite, but they'd even discussed that it was within the realm of possibility so long as she consented. The kiss now was euphoric and dangerously like drowning. He wanted to breathe but he was certain that if he did, that it would be the end of him.

Perhaps it already was.

His hand slid down over the lacing at the back of her bodice, fingers tangling in the cords that were knotted almost at the base of her spine. He gave them a bit of a tug, but nothing came of it. He felt Tracey smile against his mouth and she dragged her lips from his, kissing her way along his jawline to the spot just below his ear. Her teeth grazed the skin and he couldn't stop the groan that escaped.

Theodore sucked in a breath when he felt her hand slide up his thigh, a shiver running through his body. He closed his eyes, trying to gather a shred of self-control, knowing that if he let her have full reign that this would be over a lot faster than he thought either of them wanted. Catching her hand, he lifted it up, pressing his lips to her wrist and then lightly biting the tendons. He heard the soft inhalation and looked at her with a sly smile.

"Bedroom?"

She shook her head and grabbed the front of his shirt again, tugging him toward the sofa. "Not patient enough for that." She nudged him back until he dropped down onto the cushion before joining him, straddling his lap. Her mouth met his and he felt his hand being guided under the fabric of her skirt.

He didn't need any other suggestion. His fingers slid over the silk of her stockings and tugged at the ribbons that held them in place. The other hand swept back her hair, his mouth pressing against her collarbone. "I seem to recall you leaving your knickers elsewhere."

"Mmm. It does make things so much easier," Tracey said, sliding a hand into his hair and curling it in the strands. The other slipped down his chest to his waist and thumbed the button of his trousers. With a smile, she tugged the zip and slipped her hand beneath his shorts just as his wandering fingers moved higher, both of them drawing in ragged breaths when they found what they were seeking.

A tiny part of him tried to be reasonable. Tried to say that neither one of them were committed to this and it had all been a ruse so why continue, but her hand started to stroke up and down his cock and all sense of reason completely flew out of his head. He wanted her. He suddenly realised that he wanted her more than he wanted any woman. Other women had merely been passing the time. Tracey was fire and he wanted to burn in the inferno. He should have realised it sooner. He should have known her sooner.

So much wasted time.

His free hand caught her at the back of her neck and tugged her forward, mouth slamming against hers. This wasn't a kiss. This was a war. A battle for some kind of control over the other, all teeth and tongues and god he wanted to kiss her everywhere, scrape his teeth across every inch of her body. When they finally drew apart, Tracey's lips were swollen and red, her eyes dark pools. His thumb found her clit and he watched the changes in her face as he flicked back and forth, her lips parting and her breath catching.

Slowly he urged her hand out of his trousers, which had bunched down a bit around his thighs while he moved to her strokes.

Tracey needed no instruction and lifted the skirts a little until she could settle closer to him. Her hips moved slightly and he felt himself sliding into her as she sank down. The groan that followed was mirrored by her gasp. He moved to clutch at her hips, holding her tight against him, breathing deeply as he tried to find a thread of control in all of this.

But then she rocked against him and any chance of control was lost.

With an almost sharp movement, he bucked his hips up against her. The surprised sound she made only urged him to try it again. Her fingers gripped at his shoulders and she rose up slightly on her knees before sinking down to meet every movement. It was rustling fabric and movements and he wanted his wand to be within reach so he could just magic it all away, desperately wanting more of her skin pressing against his.

Her breath came in soft gasps with each movement and Theodore slid his hand up the bodice of her gown to the neckline, tugging. He felt her reach behind herself, still keeping a steady rocking motion and suddenly the fabric loosened. He pushed the neckline down further until he'd exposed one of her breasts and then leaned her back, his mouth closing around her nipple. He worried it between his teeth causing such a delicious sound to tear from her throat. She slid a hand over his shoulder and scraped her fingernails over the back of his shirt, pressing to dig them against the muscle of his back. An almost strangled noise seemed to burst out of him.

Grasping her hips, he moved her suddenly, shifting them around until she was pressed beneath him against the cushions of her sofa. He drew his hips back and then surged forward, sliding deeply into her and the whimper she made was exquisite. Her legs lifted up and wrapped around his hips, her heels pressing into the back of his thighs.

The sensations coiled inside of him, the feel of her body around him the thrilling sound of her moans. He'd never wanted to make a woman cry out as much as he wanted to make Tracey cry out in that very moment. He didn't care that they were mostly clothed, her skirt hiked up and his trousers bunched around his knees. He didn't care that he was losing control of himself in her. He wanted her. He wanted all of her. He wanted more of her.

"Theo," she moaned, bunching his shirt in one hand. "Theo, please..."

He wanted her to call him Theo all the time and be the only one in his life that did so.

Slipping a hand down, he hooked his hand under her knee and pulled her leg just a little higher. The shift in position and the angle of her body changed everything. The cries got louder, her body started to tighten around him. Then suddenly it snapped and everything happened in a delicious cacophony of sensation.

And sound.

And shudders.

At some point, when the aftershocks began to subside, Theodore opened his eyes and looked down at her. He watched as she slowly wound down from the high of orgasm, stretching her arms languidly above her head. After a long moment, she met his gaze and reached up to brush back the hair from his damp forehead.

"Took you long enough," she said.

"Hmmm?"

"To notice that I was there." Tracey rubbed the heel of her foot against his leg. "All these years and I've never been someone you noticed. And that _stupid_ bet. I don't even think five thousand galleons will make up for that..."

"Tracey, I'm..."

She chuckled. "Don't apologise again. It's too out of character. Besides you're seeing me now and that means Pansy gets to pony up."

Theodore pushed himself up a little and looked at her a bit confused. "You've lost me."

"She said you were un-ruffle-able. That you never lost yourself in a moment in your life. So I made a little wager of my own." Tracey leaned up and pressed a kiss to his jaw. "I'd say you're sufficiently ruffled."

Shaking his head, Theodore closed his eyes. His heart did a strange sort of flutter at each brush of her lips against his skin. "Terms?"

"A 1961 Chateau Palmer Margaux if I win. Exclusive couture robes for her if I didn't," she said, the wry smile audible in her voice. 

Theodore slid his hand down between their bodies and nudged his thumb over the slick flesh, making her gasp. "Wine and Robes? That's what my 'control' was worth?" he asked, smiling a little. "I suppose I deserve that."

"You do," Tracey said, stilling his hand. "I'm game for trying round two in the bedroom if you are. Unless it's too much for you."

He leaned in and kissed her this time, softly, tenderly, with an emotion that he wasn't quite sure he could define. When he drew back, her lips were parted in surprise as if she'd not expected the kiss to happen despite what had just come before. He brushed back her hair and kissed her forehead.

"Shall we make a wager on that?"


End file.
